


Phase Transition

by PlotDotOh (TheCheerfulPornographer)



Series: Valhalla Blues [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Road Trips, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCheerfulPornographer/pseuds/PlotDotOh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night, everything changes.</p><p>(Clint/Coulson backstory for "Valhalla Blues".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phase Transition

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about 5 years before the events of Valhalla Blues.

The desert is red, and very, very empty; the road is black, and very, very straight. The band of the Milky Way hangs low, looking close enough to touch. There's no moon tonight, but the night sky is clear and bright, this far from any city. The sand glows pale pink in the starlight, and faint shadows fall beneath the tumbleweeds and cactus.

All of the desert animals are asleep, and Phil sleeps along with them, too exhausted from the op to miss the opportunity to catch some rest while Clint is driving.

It's been a long op, and he's had to be 'on' for most of it. And all of his work has gone on behind the scenes, leaving Phil without the satisfaction of directly facing down the bad guys. He's still getting used to his new position; his hands still crave the grip of his pistol. It feels strange to be hidden away, unable to protect his men and women directly.

It doesn't help that even before the mission, Phil was having trouble sleeping. 

Nevermind the reasons.

(Nevermind the reason that's sitting right next to him, with one hand on the steering wheel.)

\-----

He awakens roughly as the car hits a bump, when his head rattles and bangs against the window. Phil winces and grumbles under his breath, pushing himself up. A weight abruptly lifts from his shoulder. 

He looks over, quickly enough to catch Clint still pulling his hand back from where it had _definitely_ been resting on Phil's shoulder while he slept. _Huh?_

Phil blinks and rubs his gritty eyes, rolling his stiff shoulders, and then looks over at Clint. The archer's eyes flicker to meet his, and then quickly dart away, back to the road. Clint looks vaguely guilty — unless that's just a trick of the light.

Phil sighs, and leans his head back against the seat.

_Impasse._

Once again, he has no idea what to do, what to say. This has been happening more and more to him, and always around Clint. The archer keeps giving him these tiny hints, little flashes of _something_ , that make Phil's brain sit up and take notice. But then just as quickly, they are pushed down again beneath the archer's carefully crafted demeanor, buried safely under layers of sarcasm and deflecting humor.

Phil wishes that solving this could be as easy as finding Clint's weak point and shooting an arrow at it. (Was that an unnecessarily violent metaphor? Phil wonders. He sees death and violence so much that it gets hard for him to tell, anymore, what a normal person would find disturbing.) But the archer is boarded up tight, and seems determined to stay that way.

Phil's not, himself, the type to make apparent his emotions.

He looks out the front windshield at the ever-changing landscape, and tries to let it hypnotize him back to sleep.

\-----

When it's time for them to switch, Clint pulls the car off to the side of the road and rolls it to a stop. They haven't passed another car in 45 minutes, and it's now 2 hours until dawn.

Phil hasn't been able to fall asleep again.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, pushes open the passenger door and stands, stretching his arms overhead. He gives a grunt of satisfaction at being able to fully stretch his back and shoulders, which are cramped from sitting for so long in the same position.

Phil turns, and Clint is looking at him again. For just a tiny fraction of a second Phil catches the archer's eye, and is struck by a look of such deep, devastating longing that he sucks in a sharp breath, feeling like he's been punched. 

_Oh, God._

Clint turns away and stares up at the brilliant stars, unblinking. Phil wonders what hidden constellations the archer's keen eyes are seeing — how many more stars there must be, for him, than are ever visible to the average person.

He often gets the sense that Clint sees the world differently, in general. That he sees more.

Life hasn't been entirely kind to Phil's archer, and a part of him has come to wish that he could protect Clint from it. It's an entirely futile thought, he knows — as if Clint would ever let anyone keep him away from danger. If anything, the archer is prone to making himself a martyr, throwing himself into peril at the slightest indication that it might help someone else, with no regard for his own safety.

"You sure you're good to drive?" Clint leans back against the frame of the car, his voice rough and gravelly from disuse. It's been hours since they've exchanged a single word. Clint doesn't look at Phil again, still resolutely staring up at the stars.

 _You know what? Fuck this._ The thought comes upon Phil, impossible to ignore. _This is ridiculous. We're both being fools — obsessing over one another, tearing ourselves to pieces over the exact same things. And we're both so scared to trust one another that neither of us will ever reach out._

The idea of continuing like this is suddenly intolerable.

_What better place, what better time..._

Phil steps around the side of the car.

Clint looks over when Phil doesn't answer his question, and his eyes widen at the sight of the other man striding toward him. He tries to push away from the doorframe, vacating the space so that Phil can get into the driver's seat, but Phil takes him by the shoulders and gently but firmly pushes him back against the car.

"Clint," he says. The other man ducks his head, won't look him in the eye. "Clint," he says again, "look at me, please. There's something I need to tell you." The archer finally looks at him, eyes wide, and Phil is struck by what he sees in their shadows.

_Fear._

He's been with Clint on ops where they've been outnumbered and outmatched; they've taken on some of the world's worst, together. They've both nearly died more than once, and seen comrades die around them. In all of that time, in all of those situations, Phil has never seen Clint look as genuinely terrified as he does right now.

It sends a chill down Phil's spine, and a shiver of self-doubt descends along with it. What if he isn't doing the right thing? What if it would be truly better to just leave it alone, hide his feelings, and go on about his business?

_What if this ends up hurting Clint?_

Phil resolutely pushes the doubts back down. If that happens he'll just have to deal with it, as awful as that sounds. He can't live another day with things as they are right now.

"I want you to know," he starts, and then has to stop and clear his throat. "I want you to know," he tries again, "that I really want to kiss you right now. And I'm not going to just do it, because I have no idea whether or not you actually want me to, and that would be creepy and possibly an abuse of authority. But I just want you to know that I really, _really_ want to kiss you. I've been thinking about that ever since I woke up."

Clint goes completely still — sniper-still, like when he's hiding in the shadows and trying to become non-existent. He looks at Phil, and Phil looks back and tries to project everything that he's feeling into his eyes. All of the terror, all of the love, the confusion, the self-doubt. All of the wanting, all of the sleepless nights.

The way Phil finds himself turning to ask Clint his opinion, at times when the other man isn't even there.

"Why would you possibly want that?" the archer whispers, and Phil hears the fear again. 

He has no idea how to respond in words, so he doesn't. Phil leans forward, telegraphing his intentions as clearly as he can, giving the archer plenty of time to pull away. Instead, Clint turns his head toward Phil, and their lips brush together lightly. 

It's the most chaste kiss possible, really, just the briefest touch of skin and skin, but it still causes a feeling of dizzy lightness to descend and fill Phil's mind. How long has he been imagining this scene?

Phil pulls back and waits, trying to gauge Clint's reaction. After the fact, those same old fears surface again. _What if it wasn't the right thing? What if it hurts Clint?_ Over and over, a constant refrain.

"Phil," Clint whispers, and his eyes fall shut. Phil looks at the fair lashes against pale white cheeks, and finds that he wants to kiss them. He wants to make everything okay, forever.

"Fuck, Phil," Clint whispers again, and when his eyes open, they're filled with a different sort of fire. "Why are you doing this to me?" 

Without any warning he tugs Phil closer, pressing their bodies together and bringing Phil's mouth down to meet his own. This kiss is completely unlike the first — it's deep, hard-pressed, and a little desperate. Phil falls forward, and lets his mind fall away. He moves on instinct, wrapping one hand around the back of Clint's head and the other around one hip, pulling the archer forward, holding him as close as their bodies will allow.

\-----

When they finally break apart, both men are panting, and Phil tips his head back in the cool night air. He looks up and sees Orion the Hunter, with his sword at his belt. The warrior who in death was set up in the sky, to live among the stars and be remembered forever.

If only all warriors could be guaranteed such a happy ending.

"This is dangerous," Clint says softly. "They'll try to use us against one another."

Phil looks down at him. "Yes. We'll have to keep this mostly hidden." 

They look at one another.

"You could die," Clint continues, "or I could die. With our lives, either one of us could be killed at any moment." 

It's completely true, and they both know it.

Phil licks his lips, and chooses his words carefully. "I think maybe... that's the best reason to do it." 

He can't interpret Clint's expression; it's one that he's never seen, despite their long acquaintance. The archer nods once, sharply, and pulls him into a hard embrace. 

Phil looks up at Orion and knows that, of all the kisses in his life, this next will be the one that he'll remember. Things are going to change, and he can't wait to find out how.

He closes his eyes and prays that they'll have time together, and enough kisses to outnumber even the stars.


End file.
